Que tu m'aimais encore?
by lilouise
Summary: Ariadne/Arthur drabble. Rated M for safety. Enjoi!
1. Chapter 1

Hallo Hallo,

This is just a little drabble-y thing i wrote after seeing Inception - Arthur and Ariadne were too suggestive together for the wheels to not stop turning.

I have a feeling there might be a lot of fic out there like this - I havent gone through them yet, so forgive me if I'm being repetitive.

ANYWAYS, enjoy. Reviewing is kind. C:

* * *

The wet cobblestones squeaked under Ariadne's feet, still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier in the day. She was thankful that she had worn her chucks today, in favour of the short heels she'd glanced at in the morning; The metro she usually took was down when she was on her way to class, affording her an innitial reason to be thankful of her choice. That long walk to the college would have been murder in anything other than sneakers.

It was nearly 5 o clock in the evening now, and the sun was beginning to set in the cloudy March sky. Ariadne looked up from the stones under her feet as she turned the last corner onto Rue Veron, knowing her building would be in view. The heavy red sun was just beginning to sneak behind it, and the light blinded her as it carved around the brick corner. She cast her eyes back down to the cobblestone road on which she walked.

Nearing the facade of her building, as the sun finally dissapeared around the corner, she almost dropped her keys as she raised her eyes from the ground.

He was leaning against the wall next to the door, his left hand in his pocket, his right rolling something in his fingers. She guessed it was his loaded die. He looked much the same as he had a few months ago, his hair slicked, his stance that strange combination of casual and guarded. Ariadne's breath was caught in her throat, and she realised she had stopped mid-stride at the sight of him. His eyes lifted to hers, foggy to begin with, and then clearing noticeably as he recognized her and pushed himself from the wall, standing up straight. She saw his breath fog as he seemed to expel and then take a deep breath.

Remembering herself, Ariadne forced her feet to move again, and she took the ten or so steps that separated them, trying not to break what she thought was a pretty good poker face. He was wearing a suit, noticibly only two peices where he usually wore three. The suit itself was a dark grey. He wore plain white shirt underneath, and a thin black tie fell from his neck. It was plainer than what she often remembered in, lacking the subtle, classy patterns and vintage sense.

'What are you doing here?' She asked quietly, stopping in front of him and looking into his eyes.

His self-assured smile was slight, but reached his eyes, which crinkled in a friendly way. 'What a greeting.' He evaded her question, adding, 'You look tired.'

Ariadne blinked and shook her head slightly. 'I've been in class all day, I'm allowed to be tired.' It wasn't a lie - she had been in class all day - but school certainly wasnt the cause of her exhaustion. 'Anyways, you're one to talk.'

He smiled again, a slighter smile than before, and nodded slightly.

There was a moment then, standing in the cool evening air, of silence between the two of them. A couple loudly exited the door in front of them, waking Ariadne from the moment. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and pretended to dig in her pocket for her keys. She hoped he hadnt already seen them in her other hand.

As her fingers closed around the bishop in her coat pocket, Ariadne released a breath she didn't know she was holding, and gained some bravery. 'Will you come inside?' She asked.

Arthur nodded, eyes tight, still rolling the die between his thumb and forefinger.

Ariadne turned to unlock the door and led the way up the five floors to her small flat, number 23. Unlocking her own door, she employed the hard tug back and up that was needed to wrench the old door open. She didnt look back at Arthur as she walked in, leaving the door open for him to close.

Arthur accepted her offer of coffee and sat quietly at her tiny kitchen table as she poured boiling water into the french press. Setting two small mugs and the press on the table, Ariadne sat down accross from him and poured coffee into the mugs, pushing one across the table to Arthur. Glancing at his hands, she saw the purplish tinge under his fingernails. How long had he been waiting outside for her?

They sat quietly, letting the heat seep from the earthenware mugs to their fingers, gingerly taking sips of the hot liquid.

Even though her mind was bursting with questions, Ariadne didn't know where she should start. She pulled the bishop from her pocket, placing it on the table and nudging it, satisfied when it tipped onto its side with a thud. Her mind reeled - Why was he here? Was this about Cobb, or some issue with our payments? Had another job come up?  
Or, could he have come just to see her?

She stopped herself fast; there was no need to get ridiculous. Just ask.

She peeled her eyes from Arthur's hands, where she had been watching the flesh under his fingernails warm to a healthy pink, and looked him in the eye. He was staring at her, his eyes surprisingly soft. As their eyes met, he blinked, and his gaze became neutral again.

'How have you been?' He beat her to the first question. She was somewhat surprised by it's triviality.

She blinked, nodded slowly, and looked down at her hands. 'I've been fine. I've finally been able to catch up with my coursework... I've been fine.' She looked back up at him, adding awkwardly '...How about you?'

His eyes were still hard, and his answer was curt, using less words than Ariadne had, but conveying the same lie. 'I've been well.'

'Bullshit,' Ariadne muttered, not completely intending to actually say it out loud. His eyes softened considerably, granting her a stark view of the dark circles under his eyes. His shoulders also seemed to lose some of their formality, and he relaxed into his chair.

There didnt seem to be much either of them could say. They were both obviously exhausted, still recovering from the Fischer Job. She knew his life had changed since they lost Cobb, but she wasn't sure how much.

'Where have you been?' Ariadne asked, and then quickly back-tracked, removing the possesive feel of her question. 'I mean, where have you been living?'

Arthur fidgeted - something Ariadne had never seen the usually composed, measured man do - and finally answered her. 'I was stateside for a while. I helped Saito deliver Cobb's share...' he trailed off, looking into his mug of coffee. Of course. Cobb's share of the Fischer Job payment must have gone to Proffesor Miles - who had gone back to the states before Ariadne made it back into regular classes - and his wife and their grandchildren. Ariadne felt the echo of tears pricking her eyes, and looked up at Arthur, who's own eyes were still downcast towards his drink. She opened her mouth in an effort of reasurrance, though she didnt quite know what she would say, but Arthur beat her to it once again.

'I actually went home for a while. To my parent's house in Seattle.'

This stopped Ariadne short. She wasn't sure where Arthur was from, or if he had any family. She didnt even know his last name.

'My baby sister just turned 17. It was nice to see her, but my folks didn't know what to do with me, having been gone for so long.' Arthur spoke quietly with a subtle smile on his lips, but with confidence.

Ariadne hardly knew what to do. She never expected to hear this much about Arthurr, without either a few drinks or a lot of prying. She prodded him gently to continue, with a quiet 'Oh?'

He looked her in the eye again, that almost imperceptible smile on his lips. 'I haven't spent more than a few hours in my family's home since I was 19. I only stayed about a week anyway. Couldn't over-stay my welcome, right?' Arthur chuckled a half-hearted laugh, only hinted by the slight shake of his shoulders.

Ariadne ventured in with a firmer prompt, being careful to not pry. 'So...You were with -' She hesitating, choosing her words, 'With Proffesor Miles, and then with your family for a week. It's been four months, where else did you end up?'

Arthur was silent at first, and Ariadne was sure she had been too intrusive, but then he spoke once again.

'Hotels, all over North America. I flew in from Montreal today, I was there for a couple of weeks.'

'What?' Ariadne startled, 'You flew in today? Jesus, you must be exhausted! Are you hungry? Let me make you something more than just coffee - ' She started to rise from her chair before Arthur cut her off.

'Hey, hey, stop fussing, sit down, I just came by to say hello.'

Arthur's words stopped her, but she didn't sit down again. She blinked, and then picked up her bishop from the table and slid it back into the pocket of her jeans. 'You're leaving? When?'

'I don't know when I'll be leaving Paris, but I figure it would be a good idea tonight for the both of us to try and get some sleep-'

'Stick around a while longer.' It was Ariadne's turn to cut in. 'I'm guessing neither of us will be able to sleep, anyways. I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich - What do you say?'

Arthur's smile was a genuine one. It was small, and didnt quite reach his eyes, but it was real. 'That sounds just fine.'

* * *

The sandwiches were long gone. Ariadne's plate was streaked with ketchup, while Arthur had his plain - of course. The dishes lay forgotten in the sink, and Ariadne had just made the third batch of coffee they would make their way through. The two of them sat in her tiny living room, she on the old couch that spread along one wall, and him in the vintage chair in the corner. Ariadne's cat Rook lay curled and sleeping next to her.

'You like chess, then?'

Ariadne knew he'd noticed the correlation between her cat's name and her totem. She shrugged. 'My Dad and I used to play, it was never a serious hobby or anything.'

'I won chess competitions in highschool.' Arthur commented, a smile tugging at his lips. 'Dorky, right?'

Ariadne laughed, shaking her head. 'No, it actually kind of makes sense.' The strategy required to win chess matches suited his proffesion. The Point Man only required that skill on a different level.

Arthur's eyes had darkened once again. He clenched his jaw, and Ariadne watched that familiar muscle jump under the skin of his cheek.

'Will you keep doing it? Dream sharing I mean, will you keep taking jobs?'

He glanced at her, his expression still dark, before looking back down at the small coffee table again. 'I'm not sure yet. It seems wrong, without Cobb. The - the only way I think I still could would be by becoming an Extractor and making myself a team. I'm not sure I want to.'

Ariadne nodded, looking into her coffee and then taking a sip. When she looked up into his face again, his expression had changed completely. Rook's head perked up, and he stood from his resting spot next to her and hopped off the couch, snaking under it.

Arthur's brow was creased angrily, his eyes dark. 'I let him go. Down in the first level, I didn't get him out of that _God damn van_.'

Ariadne staggered, surprised at the change in mood, the heaviness of his confession. She had the overwhelming urge to touch him, to comfort him and tell him he was wrong in his guilt, but he knew it on his own. In his eyes she saw that he knew it wasn't his fault that Cobb forgot himself, that he became lost in that dream. And yet the guilt still weighed on him.

She leaned over, and reached her hand out to his, letting her fingers cover his. Arthur's eyes shot to hers, his expression losing the anger, changing swiftly to sad. His sad, dark eyes remained for a moment, searching her own, his face appearing younger and more vulnerable than Ariadne had ever seen it. And then he cleared his throat, and the stoic was back, a slight frown visible in his lips. Ariadne drew her hand back, wrapping it around her warm drink.

'I don't think I'll ever do it again,' Ariadne said after a moment, looking at her hands. 'Shared dreaming, I mean.'

Arthur seemed surprised at that. 'Really? I would have thought you'd want back in as soon as you could.'

Ariadne looked up at the man in front of her, smiling sadly. 'The freedom is great, the ability to create things, planets and cities and structures without barriers. I'll never forget the feeling.' Her expression grew sadder, and she looked back down to her hands. 'I saw things, though. Between Dom and Mal. I could see how easy it must have been for them to get lost, and for Dom to loose her. I saw _too_ much. I don't think I...I don't think I could go back...'

She felt the couch shift and was surprised that Arthur had gotten up and come to sit next to her. His arm was suddenly on her back, sliding to rest on her shoulder. Their thighs touched as he moved.

'You didn't see too much. You saw what I wish Dom and Mal could have, what they would have been better off knowing about in advance.' Arthur said quietly, confidence in his low voice. 'You saw the danger of this job, and that's important, before you get too far in.'

Ariadne turned to look in his eyes, and saw the tightness there, the creases back in his forehead. 'How far are you?' She asked. 'Can...can you still dream?'

He didn't hesitate in replying, drawing his arm back from her shoulder, letting his hand rest on his thigh. 'I had my last natural dream 4 years ago, when I was 24.' He glanced into Ariadne's eyes, watching her calculate his age. 'I'd been working seriously with Dom for about a year. He had just made me his point man, but his Miles didn't approve, so I really let go of myself. My reservations about shared dreaming, I mean. I felt that I'd needed to prove to Miles that I wasn't too young for the job.'

Ariadne raised her eyebrows at him. 'Too young?'

'Until you came along, I was the youngest person to have been given a serious position in this business.' Arthur continued with a grin, 'I'm guessing Miles got over his ageism, suggesting a 23 year old to be our Architect.' He said the last words with a pointed eyebrow-raised in her direction.

She smiled, both at the memory of the proffessor she hadn't seen in months, and the memory of her first experiences in shared dreaming, the thrill of twisting the environment around her with sheer force of will. She left out the memory of Mal striding towards her with a knife. She looked up at Arthur, a faux-angry scowl creasing her face. 'You knew my age. Were you in my file?'

Arthur grinned, raising his hands in surrender. 'Guilty. Had to know who was taking my title, after all.'

Underneath her, Rook had peeked his grey head out from between her feet, venturing out from under the couch, and Arthur leaned forward, extending a slender finger toward the cat, who froze nervously and sniffed it. 'While I'm in favour of your career choice,' Arthur said, scratching Rook under the chin once his finger was accepted, 'It would have been nice to have an Architect in case I do get back in the business.' Bringing his hand back up to his leg, she saw Arthur glance quickly at his watch.

'It's already 11:30,' he said curtly, rising to his feet and seemingly forgetting he wasnt wearing a vest under his suit jacket, and straightened his tie instead. 'It's been rude of me to intrude for so long, I'm sure you have to keep up with your studies.'

Ariadne shrugged, standing up next to him. 'It's Thursday. I don't have class again until Monday.'

He grinned, another authentic one, maybe the widest she'd seen tonight. 'That's good news for me. Maybe I will see you tomorrow?'

Ariadne smiled up at him, bringing one hand up to scratch the back of her neck, nodding. Arthur glanced down at Rook, looking almost as though he wanted to say goodbye to him as well, and then stepped toward's Ariadne's front door. She followed him, undoing the 4 deadbolts on her door and nudging it in and then up, swinging it open after the ritual.

Arthur stepped over the threshold from her apartment into the building's hallway, and she leaned out the door towards him.

'Where are you staying?' She asked, expecting a 5-star hotel near the centre of the city.

'Hotel Prima Lepic.' He answered, in a fairly good French accent. Just a couple blocks away. Right. One corner of his mouth was tugged up into a half smile.

Ariadne smiled at him, shaking her head. 'A three star hotel? Really now?' She laughed shortly. 'Eames would never let you live it down.'

Arthur shrugged, his casual-yet-closed demeaner fully in place. 'I'd rather experience Paris with it's people,' he said, which would have been convincing if you hadn't known the extravagant conditions under which Arthur and Cobb usually lived when they were on the job.

Ariadne didn't know what to say then. She almost wanted to invite Arthur back in, pour him another cup of coffee and keep him out of the cold, March air. Instead, she resolved to invite him back 'I haven't heard all good things about the Prima Lepic. Don't be shy about swinging by if things get too rough - just buzz number 23.'

Arthur smiled a half smile, nodded, and said, 'Thank you for the coffee and sandwiches. It was nice to - '

He cut himself off, his half smile turning into a reserved full one, and he took a half step closer to Ariadne, his eyes glinting. He put his left hand into his pocket, and she knew without looking that he was fingering his die. He looked almost sheepishly at the floor, and muttered to himself 'I wonder if...'

Ariadne leaned against her doorway. Arthur seemed temporarily lost in his own musing. He suddenly looked up, back into her eyes, his eyes dark yet active, and smoothly closed the metre or so that separated them. Ariadne quickly straightened her stance, pushing herself from her lean on the doorframe.

Arthur was almost flush against her, their bodies separated by a handful of centimetres. She looked up into his dancing eyes.

'Quick,' he said, 'give me a kiss.'

Ariadne's mind raced back into the second level of the Fischer Job, remembering being surrounded by suspicious projections, sitting with Arthur in his own dream, in the hotel lobby she had designed herself.

But in front of her, Arthur was leaning down towards her face, his expression free of the guilt, sadness and anger that had littered it throughout the course of the evening, and then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was much like the one in the lobby. Chaste, sweet, just a bit longer than the first had been. It took her longer to recover from - as he pulled his lips from hers, she blinked a few times, looking up into his grinning face and unguarded eyes.

Arthur straightened then, tugging on the wings of his suit jacket. He said a quiet 'Goodnight, Ariadne,' and then took a step away from the door, spinning and making his way down the stairs. She was still blinking when he had dissapeared to the floors below her. She stood there for a moment, listening to his footsteps growing more and more faint on the stairs, before taking a breath and stepping back into her apartment. She felt her pulse pumping behind her ears as her fingers moved to lock her door and walked back into the living room. The dishes lay forgotten in the sink, and Ariadne flopped like a rag doll onto her couch, hands over her face, as Rook leapt onto her stomach and curled into a ball.

* * *

AWRIGHT, theres your first chapter. No clue how long this'll go - as long as im inspired by these two, i suppose.

I wonder how many of the other Arthur/Ariadne fics use the 'Quick, give me a kiss' line. Ima go and guess all of them, ahahha.

please reviewed if you feel so inclined!


	2. Chapter 2

Ariadne stayed flopped on the couch for most of the night, rising at about three in the morning to do the dishes that sat in the sink from the night before. She couldn't manage to stay asleep for more than about two hours, as was the norm since she returned to Paris from the Fischer job. She usually read or sketched when she couldn't sleep, but tonight she couldn't stop pacing around her small apartment. She almost couldn't stay still. The dishes were drying on the counter, the rest of the apartment imaculate from her sleepless nights over the past week, when cleaning at least became something to do other than laying in bed, trying to fall asleep.

Passing her bedroom, Ariadne flicked on the light and peered inside at the made bed, frowning at the thought of messing it up for no reason. She flicked the light off and walked back into her living room, glancing at her wrist watch. 4:15 am. She flopped back onto her couch and covered her face with a pillow.

It seemed like she had only just closed her eyes when they opened again. Ariadne glanced at her watch - 5:33 am - and looked out her window at the pale, fresh light in the sky. The new day was here, so Ariadne gave up the endless battle against insomnia and had a shower. By the time she was clean and dressed and ready for the day, it was just past 6 in the morning. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Ariadne stood by her front window, where Rook had perched himself on the ledge. Looking out over the city in the early morning never got old to her, as it was the only time when the streets were quiet. Parisian business men and women did not start their day until 10 am, and the only people in the streets were setting up their markets for the day ahead of them. Scanning through her neighborhood, her eyes landed on the bench, 5 floors down, that sat across the street from her building. It was not unusual for old men to claim the benches lining the road as their own at peak people-watching hours, but it was far too early now. The man sitting there now, she realised, was Arthur. _Strange,_ she thought to herself - _Why aren't I more surprised?_

She put her coffee down and wrenched open the old window. It stuck feircely, but she got it open enough for her to lean out of. Sticking her thumb and forefinger between her lips, she breathed a short, sharp whistle down to the street. Arthur's head shot up immediately and he stood up, raising a hand in salutation.

'Stay there,' Ariadne shouted, before Arthur could make his way to the door. 'I'll be down in a mintue. Want a coffee?'

'Please,' was the soft reply from below.

Ariadne pushed her front door open with her shoulder a few minutes later, dressed for the chill morning, and clutching two plastic travel mugs.

Arthur was dressed more casually today. Well-fitting dark slacks, a neutral checkered shirt and a brown leather bomber jacket, his hair familiarly slicked back. Ariadne pressed a mug into his hand, trying not to think about last night's kiss.

'Good morning,' She said, mock-cheerfully. 'Sleep well?'

Arthur raised an eyebrow and grinned, close-lipped. 'As well as ever. Are we going somewhere?'

Ariadne was already walking. 'Sacre Coeur is always nice at this hour.' She glanced back at Arthur, who was now following her. 'No tourists are out this early!'

The walk up the butte Montmartre was refreshing, the cold air pumping through their lungs, and the grounds of the Basilica were, as expected, mostly empty. Ariadne led Arthur to the front of the huge catholic church, where they leaned on the low railing that looked over the city. The huge city sprawled in front of them, sunlight spreading through the clear sky and lighting the millions of buildings in their view. They were silent for a while - comfortably so - as they sipped their coffee and enjoyed the view. They stayed there for a few hours, relocating to a bench to finish their coffees until the tourists started pouring in at around 9:30.

Ariadne found her time spent with Arthur to be quite effortless, and surprisingly organic. In the few relationships she'd had, she'd always felt the pressure to be doing something - dates consisted of activities, going to the cinema or out to dinner or to the discotheque, always having drinks and getting at least a little intoxicated. While calling what she had with Arthur a relationship seemed silly and premature, there was no pressure with him. Despite the usually strict order he seemed to live his life by, today he seemed to have shed the emotionless mask he often wore, smiling slightly as they talked in the early morning light. He looked younger now, his face free of the plague of guilt, anger and seriousness.

Strolling down the streets of Paris, they spoke of their families, where they grew up and where they went to school, finding common ground in that they both earned their undergratuate degrees at Colombia University, just separated by more than a half decade, and in completely different feilds. Arthur breifly explained to Ariadne his estranged relationship with his parents, and his existant, but very formal relationship with his brothers and sisters. He had 6 siblings, which Ariadne was shocked to hear - he was the second oldest, younger than his older brother by 15 months. Arthur was politely interested in Ariadne's own upbringing in Detroit, but she suspected he already knew it all; she had never seen her own file, but she was pretty sure if Arthur had gotten his hands on it, he knew the fundamentals of her upbringing.

By the late afternoon, they had returned to Ariadne's apartment in Montmartre. Having traversed most of the downtown core of Paris by foot, the two of them hauled themselves up the 5 stories of stairs with the fruit, bread and wine they had picked up on the walk back. Bursting back into her flat, Ariadne kicked her shoes off and leaned backwards on her couch's arm rest and collapsed onto the cushions with a huff. Arthur, removing his jacket, grinned at the comfort she obviously had with him and poured two glasses of the red wine they'd just purchased, joining her in the living room.

'Tired, are we?' Arthur asked, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

'You forget how much shorter my legs are than yours,' Ariadne said, stretching the words around a wide yawn, gesturing half heartedly at Arthur's legs, which he had crossed on the coffee table. 'These babies had to work double-time to keep up with you.'

Arthur laughed a short laugh, getting up and moving from the chair to the side of the couch where her feet lay.

'Move your legs, whiner.'

'Oooh,' Ariadne cooed from behind her wine glass, which she was slowly draining. 'Am I getting the spa treatment?' She lifted her legs as the Point Man took their place, and tried unsuccessfully to cover up a grin as he took her feet into his hands.

'Just drink your wine.' Arthur remarked, faux-disgruntled, taking a swig from his own glass before beginning to knead her feet in his fingers.

Ariadne relaxed, her feet in Arthur's lap, as the long day and the drink caught up with her. Not even 24 hours ago, Ariadne had successfully and comfortably eradicated the charming point man out of her mind. She hadnt seen him in months, she hadnt even thought about that kiss in months. And now, he was rubbing her normally extremely ticklish feet, and she was speaking to him as easily as she does her brother.

'How did this happen?' She asks, looking directly at Arthur, waiting for him to turn his gaze to hers.

He did, a smirk curling his lips. 'You were complaining, thats how it happened.'

'Oh, shut up,' Ariadne kicked one of her feet playfully out of his hands. 'Really though. Why did you come to Paris? How did this - ' Ariadne paused, searching for words 'this whole _thing_ happen?'

Arthur looked down at the foot in his hands, silent for a moment.

'I'm not really sure.' Arthur replied slowly. Arthur's face closed into it's sheet of indifference for a moment, and his hands stopped kneading the balls of her feet. A moment later, and the mask was slipping away again, the easy expression easing back onto his face.

'When I was with Miles in California, he kept mentioning you, he reminded me of where you were.' he continued, not looking her in the eye. 'I guess that planted the idea of coming to see how you've been.' Arthur smirked up at her.

Ariadne was swishing her wine around, watching the legs form and fade on the slopes of the glass. 'It's strange,' she murmured, 'How comfortable I am.' Arthur looked up at her again. She shook her head quickly. 'Not just now, even though you're pretty great at that.' Ariadne wiggled her toes slightly, and Arthur grinned again.

'I've never been this...' she dragged off, searching for words. 'It's easy being myself around you.'

Arthur's fingers continued to move as he studied Ariadne, swishing that wine in its glass. Her skin was vibrant and clear from a day outside, and the low sunlight pouring in from the windows lit the apartment with warm, golden light. Ariadne's hand stopped swirling the wine, and instead tipped the glass towards her mouth. She drained it completely. 'Time for food,' She said, with an air of finality, 'Or I might just get a little drunk.'

She pulled her feet from his hands and stood up from the couch, bringing the bottle of wine and the bags of fruit, bread and cheese back with her from the kitchen and spreading it on the small coffee table.

* * *

The sun had long since set, and Ariadne was curled on the couch, Arthur still at her feet, remnants of cheese, bread and fruit skins and seeds littering the coffee table in front of them. He sat and listened to her breathing slow, one hand still resting just at the ankle of her right leg, which was covered by a pale grey sock. The wine had relaxed him just a bit, and Arthur basked in the simple contentedness of the moment. He wondered if she was dreaming already, if her dreams had become as vivid as his were when he first started working with Cobb. He hoped they hadn't.

His eyes were beginning to slide shut, tiredness finally taking him far enough to at least be half asleep, when the slightest twitch from the ankle under his hand shook any of it away. His head turned quickly to the far end of the couch, where Ariadne's head rested. Her expression was tight, her brows drawn together. Her hands, which she held close to her body, were shaking slightly, fingers closing into tight fists. A sound then wavered from her, a moan that turned into a whimper. Arthur curled his fingers, closing his hand over her ankle.

'Ariadne,' he half-whispered, 'It's alright, come on.'

Her fingers were beginning to turn white, the blood pushed from them by the tight fists she made. He noticed her toes curling within her socks, and the fetal position she was in became more closed. The sound that emerged from her then was closer to a sob.

Arthur stood then, moving to the other end of the couch were her head was and kneeling in front of her. He put a hand on her knee, which was now drawn very close to her face, and spoke a little louder. 'Ariadne.'

Her eyes remained squeezed shut, the darting behind her eyelids evidence that she was in a deep sleep.

'Don't-' She said, choking the word out. '...don't touch him. Don't - !'

'Hey, hey, come on now.' Arthur said lowly, now setting a hand on her head, smoothing her hair from her face. He tried to keep his voice calm, knowing from experience that waking a natural dreamer up in a startling manner can do more harm than good, especially when the dreamer is immersed in a traumatic dream, which Arthur was quite sure Ariadne was.

A small shriek then burst from her, followed by a sob, and a haunting mantra from her lips - 'Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up - '

Unexpected panic shot through Arthur. 'Ariadne!' He tried again, much louder.

Her eyes shot open, looking directly into his. The air flew out of her shakily, and she choked some back in, her eyes darting around the room, tiny tears sliding from them.

'You're alright,' Arthur said, quieter, calmer. 'Hey, hey look at me, you're alright.'

Her eyes met his again and she shot up, sitting on the couch now. Arthur watched her, still kneeling in front of her as she dug in her jeans pocket, her hand emerging wrapped around a bishop. She set it down on the coffee table, eyes still wild, and flicked it gently. It tipped, thudding heavily as it did. Arthur flicked his eyes back up to hers, which slid closed. Her face seemed to break, all tension gone from it, replaced by anguish. She covered her face with her hands, elbows resting on her knees.

Arthur rose and sat next to her, listening to her gradually steady her uneven breaths.

'I'm sorry,' She finally muttered, hands still covering her face.

Arthur didn't reply, still waiting for her to compose herself somewhat. When she finally straightened, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks, he spoke.

'What were you dreaming of?' He was too curious - and in a strange way, too jealous - to resist asking. It had been so long since he could enjoy a dream on his own, and even though he knew hers had been a nightmare, the envy still crawled in him.

She was shaking her head, still wiping her cheeks. 'The people -' catching herself, she backtracked. 'My projections were so rough. You only changed one street -' She stopped herself again.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. 'I was there?'

Ariadne coughed a sharp, dark laugh. 'I guess I thought you were.' She flopped against the back of the couch, her head resting against the wall behind them, eyes squeezed shut. 'Shit,' she breathed.

'Where were we?' Arthur asked gently, inwardly eager to hear of her dream.

'Spain. It looked a bit like Barcelona. We were just walking, my projections didn't bother us at all at first. I think...' Ariadne trailed off, shaking her head and coughing out another short laugh. 'I think we were looking for ice cream.'

Arthur grinned, imagining the scene as it might have unfolded in her mind.

'I knew it was a dream, I was lucid, so I let you make a new street, one with a _damn ice cream shop_.' She said the last three words darkly, incredulously. 'The projections lost it. Shit...they're usually quick, right?' Ariadne's eyes met his, dark and still shiney with unshed tears. 'Quick about killing intruders. They werent this time...fuck...'

Ariadne then stood, rising quickly from the couch. She paced quickly about the room. 'I knew I was dreaming, but I thought...' She trailed off again, rubbing her hands over her face. 'I thought you were gone. I couldn't find my bishop, I couldn't prove my mind wrong. And you were... God, they were just _ripping_ at you, you were in so much pain...'

Arthur glanced at the bishop, still tipped on the coffee table, and pulled his own die from his pocket, casting it onto the table with the toppled bishop. Ariadne's head whipped around at the sound of it.

'Six,' Arthur muttered, rising from the couch. 'As always. It was a dream, Ariadne. We're both here, we're both fine.'

Ariadne stopped pacing, glancing at the red die. She looked apologetically into Arthur's eyes.

'And I thought Cobb's unconscious was bad.'

Arthur smiled a sad smile at Ariadne. 'We can't control the projections. It's not your fault.'

Ariadne nodded. 'Yeah, I know.' She didn't sound entirely convincing.

Ariadne and Arthur both then started gathering up their light dinner's garbage and took it through to the kitchen. Ariadne quickly did the few dishes; Arthur dried.

When they had finished, the man straightened his shirt and quietly mentioned the time. 'Thank you for today,' He said, very politely. His footsteps towards her door were not the smooth, confident strides she was used to from Arthur, but were slightly staggered. Even reluctant.

As he pulled on his jacket, Ariadne's mind rushed to think of a reason to make him stay. She could play up her nightmare, or the _sad about Cobb_ thing, or she could just do the mature thing and ask him to stay. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to say a word.

She stepped outside into the hallway with him this time, leaving her door open. He turned again, hands in his pockets, standing a foot or two from her. Acting upon instict, Ariadne reached toward's Athur's right pocketed hand, slipping her hand around his wrist. Her eyes had been shyly focused on his feet, and looking up she was surprised at how close he was. Naturally, organically, like the rest of the day had been, he took a half step closer, now almost pressing against her, and raised his other hand to her chin. He tipped her face up gently, and brought his lips down to hers, a shadow of a grin on his face. His kiss was soft and short, as it had been last night. Ariadne looked up at him, unable to control the tiny frown that graced her lips as he pulled away. Arthur's eyes lit up as he breathed out a short laugh, and his lips were suddenly on hers again. Firmer, this time, and moving against hers.

It was like someone flicked a light switch. As soon as his lips parted, ever so slightly, her mind was flooded. It became her prime directive to ruin his order - to mess up his perfect dark hair, to wrinkle his pristine clothes, to make him let go of that feirce control he was so defined by. She had spent the entire day with this man, behaving herself perfectly. But now, every moment from the last fifteen hours when she'd noticed the sharp edge of his jaw, the lean lines of his body or the easy cadence of his deep voice rushed at her, in concentration. She deepened their kiss, pushing her body flush against his. He staggered forward in response, hands suddenly at her hips, until her back was pressed against the wall. She snaked her left hand into his suit jacket, pressing it to the thin fabric of his shirt against his back, and her right hand moved to his neck, just under his ear. She felt his jaw go slack, and heard the low rumble, a raw, deep sound from the back of his throat.

He pulled his lips from hers, allowing her time for her eyes to flutter open. His face was no more than a foot from hers, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth hard, his forehead creased and serious. He looked almost angry, and muscles were jumping on his jawline. Ariadne, anxious she had done wrong, began to slide her hand slowly from his neck, but stopped cold when the sound of deadbolts sliding from locks echoed from across the hallway.

Arthur's face remained hard and angry, but his eyes flew open, blazing with - something. His hands on her hips pulled her flush against his lean form, his legs deftly shifting them both to the side. One hand left her body for a moment, and she felt a woosh of air as her front door opened from behind her. A smile then tugged at Arthur's lips, and with a smooth step they were back in her apartment, and he let the door close behind them. Moments later, her eyes still on Arthur's, she heard the creak of the door across the hall opening, and the voices of a man and a woman conversing in French, fading as they descended the stairs to leave the building.

Arthur's eyes continued to burn, and Ariadne couldn't help but smirk. 'Nicely done, Point Man.'

His grin widened, one eyebrow lifting in a cocky way for a moment. 'I was never a big fan of public displays of affection,' he murmured, his voice deep.

Ariadne's hand was still at the base of Arthur's neck, and she found herself silmultaneously sliding it up until her fingers were in his hair and pushing him backwards until his back hit the closed door behind him. His head hit it with a soft thunk.

'Ow,' He breathed, before she stood on her tip-toes, pulling his lips down to hers.

It was dizzying, the intoxication that filled her when their lips met. The breif goodnight kiss from last night paled in her mind as she drank him in, her tongue pushing against his, his hands snaking across her back, slipping under her cardigan, lingering at the small area between the waistline of her jeans and the hem of her cotton shirt where a sliver of skin peeked out.

Ariadne took advantage of her position and wedged her right leg between his, pressing her body flush against his. Their hips met and Arthur's mouth dropped open again. His breath rushed from his lungs, hotly decorating her face. She pushed her fingers into the hair on the back of his neck and guided his head down, capturing his lips with hers once more. His fingers fanned on her hemline, exposing more of her pale skin, and his warm hand was quickly pressed against her back, travelling up and over her ribs. He pushed himself from the wall now, firmly holding Ariadne against him.

'Where's your bedroom,' He stated more than asked between kisses.

Ariadne leaned him in the direction of the hallway, and he took the innitiative, guiding them down it dextrously, his lips never leaving hers. Passing through the threshold into her room, Ariadne flung her hand out to hit the lightswitch and missed, her hand smacking against the wall, leaving the room lit only by the dim yellow-orange lights of Parisian street lamps from outside. Her bedroom was small, and she felt the backs of her knees collide with the edge of her mattress, and they were down.

Arthur was pressed onto her, but only for a moment before looping his arm around her waist and pulling her up, higher onto the bed. She was pushing at his coat before she knew it, and he straightened from her for a moment, slipping it from his torso. He was all over her again, his mouth now on her neck, at her pulse point under her ear, his hand dancing on her ribcage under her shirt. Her fingers danced along the collar of his shirt and towards the buttons that held it onto this body. Fumbling blindly at them as Arthur's lips pressed against her neck distractingly, she finally got one undone, and then two, and then a third and a fourth. She frowned when her her hands met another shirt, a cotton, likely long-sleeved shirt. Arthur laughed against her neck and then brought his lips back to hers.

'Sorry,' he mumbled, his words muffled by her lips.

Drinking in his lips again, his hand pressed agaist her bare ribs, she slid her hands down towards the waist of his slacks and instead started tugging at his tucked-in shirt. He laughed gently against her lips. Ariadne shifted her hips as she tugged at his shirt, and felt hardness rub against her thigh. Arthur's laugh dissapeared instantly, his breath sucking in sharply. Opening her eyes, she saw his squeezed shut, his forehead lined in concentration. She tested him again, rolling her hips against him, and his eyes shot open, burning still. Giving up on pulling his shirt from the waist of his pants, she slid her hands back up to his chest, scrunching her fingers into his shirt and trying to pull his lips back down to hers. He obliged, kissing her much more gently. The kiss ended quickly, and Arthur exhaled, his hot breath gracing her cheek.

'We've got to stop,' He whispered, resting his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

Ariadne was quiet for a moment, catching her breath. 'Why?' she whispered, her eyes still closed.

Arthur shifted, pressing one more quick kiss against her lips. He slipped a hand around her waist and shifted his weight off of her, moving to lay next to her while pulling her along with his movement so that she was curled on her side against his body. Her head rested against on his shoulder, his arm tucked along her body. She slid her hand onto his chest, slipping three fingers into the gap between buttons on his shirt. Their breath was slowing together, calming, and she could feel the gentle pounding of his heart under her hand.

Neither of them said a thing for some time, and after about an hour Ariadne noticed, her own eyes growing heavier and heavier, that Arthur's breath had slowed enough that she was quite sure that he himself had fallen asleep. Not daring to lift her head to see if his eyes were in fact closed, Ariadne smiled to herself, and let her eyes slide shut in the easiest attempt to fall asleep in the last four months.

* * *

hey chapter two whaddup!

This was fun to write, although it took me quite a while. If you guys are still digging this, I'll keep writing.

Reviews are kind, good or bad.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun in her eyes woke Ariadne, easing her out of sleep. That bleary, sleepy feeling remained for longer than she could ever remember; likely aided by the warm, cotton-covered chest beneath her cheek and the heartbeat she could feel reverberating through her, almost matching her own heart beat-for-beat. She could tell from his breaths that he was not asleep and lifted herself up slightly, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him.

Arthur's eyes were sleepily focused on the ceiling, one hand behind his head, the other resting on Ariadne's shoulder blade. His eyes slid down to meet hers, a slow smile gracing his lips as they did. She smiled back, pleased with the rare youth she saw on his face. No furrows this morning.

'How did you sleep?' Ariadne murmured, blinking sleepily.

Arthur's fingers began drawing circles on her shoulder blade. 'Not as well as you did, but I got a few hours in.'

Pulling her body up and leaning on her elbow, Ariadne looked out the window. By the way the sun shone through the windows, she guessed it was midmorning. _That would mark the longest sleep I've had in a few months, _Ariadne thought to herself. Turning her attention away from the time and towards the man laying next to her, she leaned up to him and pressed her lips against his.

'You shouldn't have let me sleep if you were awake,' she murmured, her lips inches from his. He stretched his face towards her, kissing her back - sweet, chaste kisses, which held as much meaning to Ariadne as the heated ones from the night before.

_The night before..._

She lay her head back on his chest, her mind buzzing with the memory of the previous night. The kisses, the contact, the frustration and, strangely enough, charm of Arthur stopping things.

'I'm happy you're here,' She said suddenly, removing the filter between her thoughts and her words. 'I never thought I'd see you again. I'm... really happy you're here.'

Arthur's chest rumbled as he hummed in what she took to be agreement.

'How -' Ariadne stopped herself this time for a moment, not sure of her question. 'How long do we have?'

Arthur's fingers stopped moving on her back. His breathing seemed to stop momentarily, and Ariadne propped herself up again to look him in the eye. His eyes were on hers, his eyebrows slightly knit together. Shallow furrows were back on his forehead, his lips pressed into a tight line. She waited patiently for his answer, peering at him. His hair was messier than she'd ever seen it, which meant that it was only just out of place - sleeping on it had given it volume reminiscent of Elvis Presley. His jaw line was dusted with very slight, very attractive stubble. Caught up in her appreciative survey of his features, she let his silence slide.

'While you think,' she said, playfully leaning in for another quick kiss, 'I'm going to go have a shower.'

She rose from the bed, leaving Arthur sprawled there, fully clothed yet rumpled considerably from his pristine appearance the day before. Gathering up a towel and a change of clothes, Ariadne shot another sleepy smile his way, and strode off to the bathroom.

The shower left Ariadne feeling more refreshed than she had in months, likely due to the unusually healthy amount of dreamless sleep she had enjoyed. Drying off and pulling her clothes on, Ariadne was sure she smelled very breakfasty smells coming from outside of the bathroom door. Emerging from the bathroom, rumpling her still damp hair in a towel, Ariadne walked into her kitchen. On the counter there sat an omelette, two slices of toast and three strawberries on a small plate. In the drying rack next to the sink, the frying pan and a matching plate (that Arthur likely ate from) sat dripping. Ariadne smiled, walking up to the still-warm, neat little breakfast. Next to it, there was a small note.

_Took your keys_

_Be back soon._

_-A _

_

* * *

_

They spent most of the morning lounging around Ariadne's home, comfortable in both silence and conversation. Arthur had returned, clean, shaven, and in a fresh change of clothes. Ariadne pulled out a huge art history volume for some of the time, lazily studying for a mid-term that was weeks away, as Arthur casually shot questions about artists, dates, and curators at her. Nearing the middle of the afternoon, Ariadne huffed out a breath, slammed the huge volume shut and stood. 'I owe you,' She declared, spinning and looking at Arthur and the cat. Both stared at her, similar expressions on their faces.

'You made me breakfast, I owe you.' She finished

Arthur grinned, scratching Rook behind the ears. 'You made me grilled cheese the other night. We're even.'

'Nonsense.' Ariadne spun on her heel and strode to her kitchen. 'Anyways,' She continued, hollering to the living room, 'we're not just going to sit around in my living room. What's your favourite kind of food?'

'Maybe Thai,' Arthur said, walking into the kitchen after her. 'You want to just sit around in your kitchen, then?' Ariadne was crouched in front of the open fridge, pulling drawers open.

'Pad Thai it is.' Ariadne said, ignoring Arthur's sarcastic quip. 'All I need is tamarind and some vegetables.' Looking up from her crouch, Ariadne smiled at Arthur. 'Want to come shopping?'

* * *

Reaching up to pull the rice noodles from a top shelf of one of the cabinets in her kitchen, Ariadne smiled to herself. The market Arthur and she had gone to was close to her flat, and she was familiar with the family who owned it. The older woman who cashed out their purchases gave Ariadne a knowing glance after skimming her eyes over Arthur. Ariadne had returned it with a scowl and a warning eye - although she'd never heard Arthur speak French, she had no doubt that he would at least understand any snide remark the woman might make.

Grinning to herself in her kitchen, mind stuck in the market they had just returned from, Ariadne tripped backwards over her own feet, stumbling from her tip-toe at the counter. Rice noodles still in hand, she had just put her other hand out to catch the counter before her feet clumsily slid out from under her, and Arthur's arm was suddenly and inexplicably around her waist, his firm chest against her back. Regaining her feet, Arthur's hand still on her waist, Ariadne turned to face him. His brows were drawn together, his eyes darkened in what she was beginning to realise was not anger but..._desire_.

She didn't hesitate. Dropping the package of noodles on the counter, she pressed her hands to his chest, snaking one up to the back of his head and tilting his head forwards, standing on tip-toe as she did. She kissed him hard, feeling suddenly feverish, forcing him backwards a step. His feet steadied them, and his hands seared over her, sliding from her hip to her ribs, one hand on her cheek and her neck and in her hair.

He pulled his lips from hers, their huffing breaths mixing in the small distance between them. Ariadne cracked her eyes open, just in time to see a flash of Arthur's dark, intense eyes, and the brief jump of that muscle in his jaw, before they were on each other again.

He stepped their bodies forward, until Ariadne felt her backside collide with the kitchen counter. His hands were then at her waist, gripping her tightly and lifting her up onto the counter, all the while never breaking the contact between their lips. He slid confidently between her legs, and she was surprised to find her own wrapping around him, her ankles hooking around the backs of his knees, pulling him closer to her. Their torsos were flush now, tongues pressing, lips pulling, hands everywhere. It didn't take Ariadne long to un-do the buttons of his crisp, cream-coloured shirt, and she was pulling it from the waist of his slacks, pushing the sleeves from his arms. He shrugged it off, still (most frustratingly) covered in a grey cotton long-sleeved shirt.

She mumbled into his lips and pulled hers from his, breathing 'Too many clothes,'

He laughed, murmuring back between kisses, 'You're one to talk. Still have that scarf on.'

Her hands drew back from his body, reaching to her neck and untying the silk scarf. She whisked it from her neck and around his in a fluid motion, pulling him closer to her with it.

'Better?'

'A little.'

It was like she'd never get enough of him. She kissed him, hardly leaving room to breathe, and found the hem of his cotton shirt, sliding her slightly cool hands under it and onto Arthur's firm stomach, letting the scarf glide to the ground. His lips and hands ground to a sudden halt – she felt more than heard that same, low rumble from the previous night, and he shifted gears somehow, his kisses feeling more urgent, his hands pressing against her body, snaking down to her own waist and sliding up under her silk shirt, long fingers splaying onto her back. His lips slipped from hers and decorated light kisses down her jaw line and onto her throat as his fingers glanced along the skin under her shirt, brushing against the edge of her bra more than once.

Ariadne squirmed under his lips, trying to shrug the cardigan from her shoulders while keeping her hands on the smooth skin of his abdomen. Finally pushing the cardigan down her bare arms, she slipped her hands back onto his stomach, pushing her hands up to his chest under the thin cotton shirt. His lips were gone from her throat then, pressing back at her own as she drank him in. She slid her hands down from Arthur's chest, pushing down past his navel and hooking her thumbs on his belt.

His lips once again froze against hers. This time, however, instead of increasing in intensity, his hands slid slowly from her torso to her wrists. He broke their kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, his hot breath on her mouth. His fingers slid between hers, pulling them from his belt and moving them to the counter top on either side of where she sat. He pressed her hands palms-down on the granite, leaning on them with his own.

They stayed there for a moment, forehead to forehead, blood still racing in their veins and eyes squeezed shut as they caught their breath. Ariadne didn't fight his control of her hands, but she kept her ankles hooked solidly around his legs, keeping him from slipping from the counter and breaking the contact between their torsos.

He breathed a laugh then, and Ariadne opened her eyes to see Arthur's dark, shadowed eyes peering at her, a grin on his face. He straightened slightly, breaking the contact of their foreheads but not getting far.

'What happened to the pad Thai?' He said, voice dripping with the desire that was in his eyes, but capped with a joking edge.

Ariadne didn't hide her disappointment, groaning over-dramatically and slumping her head forwards, letting it thud against his chest in disapproval. Arthur laughed again, his hands sliding up her bare arms and resting on her shoulders. He straightened her, and she allowed her head to bob back, her face adorned with a huge pout, her eyes as puppy dog-ish as she could manage.

He laughed again, though his blank, unaffected mask creeped at the edges of his youthful expression, tightening his smile and covering the desire in his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, close-mouthed and still, and moved his hands to her knees, hooking his fingers behind them until the muscles in her legs relaxed and he could slide away from her.

For a moment Ariadne just sat on the counter, her posture slumped, her body still craving Arthur's. As he rifled through the canvas bag for the groceries they had just picked up, she watched the mask cover his face completely, and for a moment he moved without emotion, going through the motions in her kitchen with comfort and grace that bordered on robotic. He opened the fridge, bowing down to pull vegetables from it, and when he straightened and looked in her direction again, there was a hint of humour and almost mischief in his eyes. He held a red pepper out to Ariadne as the fridge door shut behind him, and she slid from her seat at the counter and joined him.

They moved through the kitchen as if they'd always cooked together, weaving around each other, Arthur only asking once in a while where she kept some ingredient or utensil. Their arms and hips occasionally graced each other, often intentionally, as they danced a flirty dance around the food. It was far from awkward, but at times Ariadne felt she could cut the tension with a knife.

As Arthur slid the onions from the cutting board onto the frying pan, his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, Ariadne saw a strange expression pass over his face as he glanced at the number, one that held a strange mixture of terror, annoyance and amusement. He glanced at her, gesturing to the phone. Ariadne nodded, and Arthur strode from the kitchen, flipping his phone open.

'Arthur,' she heard him mutter into the phone as he answered it.

Ariadne quietly kept chopping the peppers in front of her, innocently listening in to the conversation in the hallway. She couldn't guess who would be calling him - business opportunities? One of his siblings?

'I'm in Paris.' Ariadne heard Arthur say, 'Flew over here a couple of days ago -'

His words were cut off by shouts from the phone that even Ariadne could hear from the kitchen. Cutting through the noisy haze of a man shouting, she could hear his words quite clearly. _'I KNEW IT!_' Tinny, maniacal laughter screamed from the small phone. 'Is she with you now_? PASS THE PHONE TO HER!_' More laughter followed, and then 'I fucking _KNEW_ it you _bastard_!'

Eames. Ariadne knew it without asking. She set down the knife and the pepper and leaned out into the hallway. Arthur was leaning against the wall, the phone held a few cautious inches from his ear. His expression was tight with a cringe, but his mouth was tugged by a smile that he was certainly trying to keep repressed. His eyes shot up to hers when he noticed her leaning out, and seeing her grin, his own widened.

'Yes,' he said calmly into the phone. 'She's here. But she doesn't want to talk to you.'

A loud, elated laugh erupted from the phone, followed by an even louder 'Pass her the fucking phone!'

Arthur's eyebrows rose in inquiry, and Ariadne answered with an eager nod and a twinkle in her eyes. She took the phone from Arthur, clearing her throat quietly as she did.

'Hello, Mr Eames.' She drawled, using the sexiest voice she could muster. Her eyes were on Arthur, who was grinning and shaking his head, his arms crossed across his chest.

'Ariadne, darling,' Eames replied, completely composed and as charming as ever. 'How have you been?'

The false small talk made Ariadne roll her eyes. 'I have been quite well.' She replied, very formally. 'But you see, Mr. Eames, I do have a guest right now and really must be going -'

Eames' laughter broke the farce, and Ariadne jerked the phone away from her own ear as the loud laugh burst from it. 'Certainly,' he replied, amusement still colouring his voice, 'But pass it on to the old man that I'm getting on a plane to Paris within the hour. I have some news for him, and maybe for you.'

Ariadne searched Arthur's eyes at Eames' words, but from his expression it was clear that he hadn't heard them.

'See you soon, Darling.' Eames continued. 'And congrats on the new development.'

Ariadne felt blush bloom on her cheeks at his last words, and hearing the click of Eames hanging up, she closed the phone and held it out to Arthur. He pushed himself from the wall and strode to her, standing much nearer to her than he had to, his hand brushing over hers as he took his phone from her.

'He says he's coming to Paris,' Ariadne said, looking up at Arthur. 'He says he has news for you, and me.'

Arthur's grin turned into a slight frown, and he nodded. 'It would have happened sooner or later. I just wonder where he's flying from.'

They had no clue where Eames had called from, or where he'd be flying from. It could be anywhere from one to twenty four hours until they heard from him again.

So, for the moment they continued with what they were doing. Arthur kept cutting up the vegetables while Ariadne began making the sauce in the bottom of a wok. She was aware that the silence between them had changed - it was no longer as easy and comfortable as it had been. Glancing at Arthur, she saw the furrows in his brow and the tightness of his lips that hadn't been there before Eames' phone call.

'Do you think it will be a job?' Ariadne asked quietly, draining the noodles and dumping them into the wok with the vegetables and sauce. Arthur was leaning against the counter, his face still serious.

'I'm not sure.' He replied, voice emotionless. 'I've never worked with just Eames before. Cobb was always the one to inform me of any jobs.'

They were silent then, and ate their food quietly at Ariadne's small kitchen table. Arthur's eyes hardly met hers now, and she wondered if he had completely forgotten what had almost happened in that very kitchen not even an hour ago. _She_ certainly hadn't. She had trouble keeping her eyes off his forearms; the sleeves of his shirts had been rolled up as they worked, and remained that way, granting Ariadne the view of the sleek muscles in his arms, and the thick, graceful veins that ran under the skin.

When the quiet trill of Arthur's mobile phone sounded, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes snapped from Arthur's arms to his eyes, which appeared to grow even more tired as the pulled the phone from his pocket and snapped it open at his ear. Ariadne could only just hear Eames' voice on the other line before Arthur could speak, and his eyes met hers.

'We'll be there in a moment,' Arthur said, and hung up.

* * *

**A pretty slow chapter, I know. It took me so long to write cause it's so damn boring, ahahha**

**reviews are nice, good or bad!  
**


End file.
